


Not Quite Lucid Dreaming

by Filthdragon (Wayward_Dragon)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Cousin Incest, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Incest, Internalized Victim Blaming, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Obito as False Madara/Tobi, Praise Kink, Sleep Paralysis, Somnophilia, Timeline What Timeline, Unreliable Narrator, Vile Smut, maybe dont read if you love good!Obito, my usual bullshit uchiha xeno hcs, questionable reality, this is horrible in every possible way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 06:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Dragon/pseuds/Filthdragon
Summary: The edges of dreams and reality blur.





	Not Quite Lucid Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is some horrible stuff!  
> It took me like 8-ish months to crank this out because college but whoof here it is, I should pick on some other characters too lmao.  
> You can consider Itachi at any age really but I was going for 14-16, im playing fast and loose with canon to make this extremely gross fic where I project my trauma-flavored dream vs reality Issues on Itachi.
> 
> And yes, plausibly, sleep paralysis and blendy half-lucid nightmares can be Like This even without any drugs, signed someone with frequent sleep paralysis and very vivid nested dreams that are hard to distinguish from reality.
> 
> The xeno hc mentioned in the tags is the ability to growl/chirp/hiss/purr in the register 'animals' have due to alien ancestry and summons traits becoming genetic after so many Cat Contracts in the same family.

Itachi is dreaming.

He is dreaming and he hears Madara, but from far away purring, “Shh shh, Itachi-kun.”

Itachi feels a shock of alarm, but he is just so  _ tired _ .

He is still dreaming.

He is lying in his bed and walking in the forest.

He can feel the wind brush against him, and he can feel a hand sliding down his arm.

The moment passes, the dream shifts, his lucidity shifts with it.

He sitting atop the Hokage monument with a heavy shawl wrapped around his shoulders.

He feels warm and dizzy.

He falls asleep, leaning back against a tree.

He cannot move.

He awakes, a snapshot of one half-open eye of the room he is currently occupying and he makes a sleepy noise, the thrumm of clan-child growl coloring it.

Madara’s voice speaks again, as though from underwater, “Go back to sleep, now.”

The hand stroked down his side, and Itachi tried to twist away.

He could not move.

Fitful panic bloomed, but oh- he was so tired.

His eye shut of its own accord, and he felt himself floating weightless in a blue expanse of water.

He was lying in bed.

The hands do not pet him for a few moments.

Reality shifts again.

He is lying on a couch in Kakashi-sempai’s apartment.

He is warm and dizzy and uncomfortably aroused.

Itachi shifts and squirms, looking around, but the apartment is empty.

Nonsensical erotica novels litter the coffee table.

He cannot read a word of any of the titles.

Itachi shakes his head, he needs to leave.

He tries to get up off the couch, and the air resists him like it has physical weight.

With great effort he rolls over and he snaps awake.

He is in the annoyingly creaky bed he claimed yesterday.

He is horribly, horribly aroused.

He cannot move.

There is a dull ringing in his ears and the walls warp so he squeezes his eyes shut again.

“Shh, shh, shhh, sleep now, Itachi-chan.”

He knows what this probably is, abstractly.

Sleep paralysis.

He’s had it plenty of times before.

_ This isn’t real _ , he tells himself firmly.

All he can hear is his own panting and the quiet breathing of hallucination-Madara.

A hand slides down his chest, and he tries his best to move his fingers without success.

_ This isn’t real _ , he repeats to himself.

“Go back to sleep, now.”

Madara’s voice thrumms around him and another hand cards through his hair.

Everything goes fuzzy and melts away.

He falls through pitch blackness- hearing only distorted murmurs in Madara’s low baritone- its buzzing sets his teeth on edge- he can feel his body where it lies sleeping- and the body falling through empty space- hazy faint lights pulsing below him.

He feels not-Madara’s hands slide down his side- down his hips a legs. When he half opens his eyes, the crescent of hazy sight is superimposed over the void. Itachi whines, upset. This is hell- this is hell and he  _ hates it _ and he half shudders in the falling-space. He hears Madara say again, “Go back to sleep, now.”

Itachi wants nothing more than to sleep deeply. Anything but this. He is hypersensitive and dizzy- so tired and sick and its both awful and nice and oh god oh fuck this is so  _ fucked up why is he dreaming this? _

He catches more glimpses in this in-between space- heavy breathing and the shuffle of cloth and the blanket he had half-tangled himself in.

He is so upsettingly aroused by this.

Dream-Madara’s hands slide down his spine and pull down his underwear and Itachi thinks maybe this is punishment for his past sins. Maybe it’s proof of how terrible he is- he dreamed this, hes aroused, he half-wants to get to climax already from this awful dream instead of push away from it.

Everything is awful and horrible and Itachi is so, so sick.

Itachi remembers, just then with a detached note of panic, that ‘Madara’ is not actually Madara at all- but some other person with an unknown sharingan, and he doubts again.

No. No this is _not real._

The black void becomes more filled with snowy, blurry lights that Itachi falls past, never seeming to go anywhere.

When false-Madara pushes his fingers into Itachi’s ass, it feels both much like he expected it would ( _stinging, steals the breath from him the way being stabbed or cut does_ ) and not like anything at all what he thought it would( _not horribly painful-just a bit uncomfortable, way more attractive_ ). He shudders, and his real body twitches. He hears false-Madara murmur about how much of a pretty slut he is - _ yes just like that easy now _ -

And knows he must be truly disgusting to make this up and half-like it.

Its far too true, he must be- if his head is making  _ this _ up.

He loses a few seconds-or minutes, the ringing in his ears and the warm hazy arousal surrounding him telling him each time hes hallucinating and its not real as he wakes up just enough to panic.

Bits and snippets come to him- a blur of _handshandshands,_ the strange and upsettingly hot and terribly slow slide of being fucked, the panting and murmuring non distinct words from false-Madara.

He hisses, uncomfortable and vaguely upset.

It is far too warm.

This is hell, this is his punishment, and he will take it- disgusted with himself for being this self-destructive and for fucking liking it too much.

He gets little sight flickers, here and there, from outside of his hazy now stumble in a midnight forest dream, of his bedside table- of the walls warping and changing color. He squeezes his eyes shut again, blocking out even the sights from the dream.

There is shifting and creaking and weight across his legs and shoulders and then a sharp and terribly uncomfortable pain.

Itachi snaps awake to False-Madara pinning him down with his cock pressing into him and struggles, his body numb and shaky and hard to control- _this is the worst fucking dream- is it a dream?_

“Ssh _ssh, relax_ , you liked it _so much_ when you weren’t fully awake.”

Fuck he isn’t  _ sure  _ anymore- but is  _ has _ to be. False-Madara is on the other side of the country right now. Itachi feels his eyes sting and his chest hurt and he is still so upsettingly hard.

_This,_ Itachi decides, _is_ absolutely _penance for the Massacre._ He should suffer as much as possible before he dies, for how many lives he cut short. For the way he tortured _SasukeSasukeSasuke-_

Itachi goes limp with a half-chirping sob as False-Madara strokes his hair.

Itachi is so, _so_ tired.

Everything is so sweaty and hot and cold and numb and _oversensitive_ and Itachi thinks distantly of how he is already used in every way possible but this before now, why not add being fucked to the list? It’s not like it was ever  _ really _ his body anyway.

Even if this probably, _definitely_ isn’t real. Maybe especially then.

The pleasure-pain bursts through the hazy distant feeling and makes a convincing argument as Itachi fists his hands in the sheets.

False-Madara’s gloved hands grip his shoulder and hip and he makes a pleased little growling sound, “ _Good boy._ I’ll be gentle.”

Itachi _hates_ how reflexively happy it makes him, to hear that.

He is so dizzy and _tired_ and his vision is blacking out again at the edges as False-Madara fucks him. It stopped being actually uncomfortable awhile ago, and now was horribly, _horribly_ nice he can’t even keep his muscles tense and he hates it _he hates it he hates it-_

He thinks he loses some time, fading in and out as False-Madara becomes more rough, it starts aching a little again, but Itachi decides the pain is both what he deserves and what he wants.

He hears himself panting and feels his body jerk and shake without permission under False-Madara’s hands, making it ache perhaps a little too much.

“Such a _good boy_ for me, just relax now.”

Itachi groans desperately in response, too tired and confused and _sick_ to resist how _bad_ he wants people to like him and congratulate him and tell him he isn’t _fucking everything up for once_. He tries his best to comply, while half-conscious. Forcing shaking hands and muscles unclench and to go limp again despite how bad they want to tense up and spasm again.

How the thrusting is so full-body affecting, every movement is just so much.

False-Madara pants and grunts and growls above him and the bed makes protesting noise and Itachi is so dizzy and _tired_ and it feels like hes going to orgasm off of this and he hates it _so much._

With another little pleased sound, False-Madara speaks again pitched different, higher maybe, with that sweet subvocal growl overlaying his speech more obviously, “What- _hah_ what a _good_ little slut huh? Thats it- _fuck-_ take it Itachi-chan- _hnn._ ”

God, _fuck_ he shouldn’t find that hot it’s so upsetting _nononono-_

False-Madara shifts his weight and slides a hand back down and underneath Itachi. Itachi jolts and squirms as the older man cups his cock and strokes him _almost_ lovingly.

He _hates_ how False-Madara is trying to make him enjoy it, how he chose to fucking hallucinate this, how he doesn't want False-Madara to _stop oh god oh fuck_ , what kind of sick person wants this? _Dreams this?_

What kind of sick person is so _lonely_ and _tired_ they want their awful fucking mystery relative who murdered his other family members to have sex with them?

Itachi is too tired to follow any of those thoughts through.

Madara’s gentleness is anything but, every touch is far, _far_ , too much -too hypersensitive. He barely notices a tiny sharp prick of pain on his arm at the intensity.

“ _Thats it_ ,” False-Madara murmurs between pants in what seems to be his real voice, “Thats it, _-hah-_ be good for me, Itachi-chan”

Itachi is so _sick_ and _tired_ and _dizzy_ and _yes yes please hes being good and useful please dont stop this isnt even real anyway no no he shouldnt like this oh kami-_

Itachi sobs out a desperate little noise when he cums, Madara’s barely-coherent praises echoing in his ears as he grinds his now slick hand against Itachi’s cock one last time -the world starting to go black around the edges.

He can feel Madara sliding out of him, but he cannot move, all the fight has gone out of him anyway.

He can hear False-Madara's harsh panting, and his erection pressed against his thigh and his final _'fuck'_ as he cums between Itachi’s legs, vigorously stroking himself while pinning Itachi down. Itachi distantly thinks of how degrading that is and also how upsettingly little he finds himself minding.

As he finally loses consciousness, he hears False-Madara say quietly as he ruffles Itachi’s hair, “Good little cousin.”

 

When he wakes properly again it is nearly four hours later, sore, with a splitting headache, poor balance, and in desperate need of a shower.

Itachi is almost always sore, so he dismisses it. The headache, well, no more sake as a sleep aid for him.

The dreams.

_Ugh._

The alcohol didn’t even taste right anyways.

_All the same,_ Itachi thinks as he squints at the underwear he really needs to wash before Kisame and his _very_ sharp nose gets back, _it was so terribly real-feeling._

The next time he sees ‘Tobi’ he can barely pay attention to what’s going on while trying to keep his composure. ‘Tobi’ acts no different, and he can't have simply teleported across the country. 

But Itachi is so tired and nervous and sick-feeling all the same.

It wasn’t even _that_ bad of a dream, if horribly disgusting. Why was he reacting this way?

When ‘Tobi’ leaves again, he calls out “Have sweet dreams everybody!”

Itachi stumbles for a second, suddenly feeling far too cold.

_Its a coincidence,_ he tells himself firmly.

And if he traps his room more aggressively than before just to be sure?

That's just a coincidence, too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone if it wasnt clear, Obito-As-Tobi date-rape drugged Itachi’s sake he obtained as a sleep aid with several drugs and then dosed him with a tranquilizer to put him under again when he started burning off the drugs with chakra unconsciously in order to keep Itachi from becoming lucid enough to get him with Amaterasu.
> 
> On Obito’s part this is a move to keep Itachi nervous of him, suicidal enough to die when scheduled, unbalanced and not trusting his judgement enough to do anything terribly proactive, and a personal opportunistic act of control, possibly revenge for being liked in the clan when he wasn’t.  
> I considered doing a piece of this from Obito's pov but it wasn't to be.


End file.
